Vous sont manquant à partir de moi: You are missing from me
by Rent-Fanfictions
Summary: Mark and Roger have recovered from the events of Rent together. They have been dating for almost three years, they're both working, and our boys are even closer than ever. Life is okay.. until one fateful day when a demon from Mark's past comes back to haunt them both. Mark/Roger. Don't like it, dont read. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello all! it's been a really long time since I last Posted chapter fics, and this one is actually a work-in progress, so chapters may come out slow than I like. I'll try to get a new chapter up at least once every week, a lot of parts have been already written out, like the ending, a few parts of the middle, and other scenes. It's tying it all together that has me kind of stuck. **

**I'm really trying to get to writing again, and what better way to do it than dedicating myself to putting out new material often? I have the first few eleven chapters written out, so I need to finish revisions, and hopefully keep up. I'm not making any serious promises, my hands are going to be full at the moment. My show for crew is seven days, snippets are in six. Im gonna be at rehearsal until almost six pretty much every night, and im gonna have even busier weekends, so please bear with me. **

**NYPD marker, and a found footage chapter story will be coming up after this one :) please read, and review! your support means a lot! **

**Sidenote: The title is French. I saw a post once, that displayed the French words "I miss you" looking through more translations, I discover "You are missing FROM me" meaning you're a part of me, and you're gone, and lost, and I don't know what to do. Let those feels sink in.**

* * *

**Mark Pov:**

"Rog? come on, it's almost noon!" I cried, while scurrying around, trying unsuccessfully to tidy up the loft before I was to leave. This place is always a mess anyway, no matter how many times I try to make it presentable, it will just slip back to it's normally disheveled state.

For the first time in what seemed like years, I had gotten a job interview at a place I wouldn't mind working. They had seen some of my work, and offered me a position on one of their main reporting teams. It was a lot less sleazier than buzzline, and even though Roger would miss having me home all day, pretty soon he realized how happy it made me, so he instead gave me his full support.

Life seemed to be going fairly well for us. With me about to land this job, and Roger picking up late shifts at the life, we finally had enough money to stock our fridge, and pay Benny occasionally. He hadn't been banging on our door for months, and he even had the human decency to leave on our power, and as an unexpected blessing, our heat.

Hot water was a beautiful thing I had almost forgotten about. I still remember the morning we discovered we had it, for hearing Roger scream with happiness when he took his shower brought bouts of laughter from my throat.

"Mmm…" I heard Roger respond, and I watched him bury his face back into his.. _/Our/_ bed. We had been together for almost three years, and sharing a sleeping space was a normal practice nowadays, even though half the time I either ended up without covers, or on the floor when my wonderful boyfriend decided to sprawl out in his sleep.

"Do I look okay? where's my scarf? Roger Michael Davis, get! up!" I yelled, becoming even more panicked as I ran into our room. I stopped once I was inside, and I soon noticed how sleepily he was nestled into the covers. My heart melted a little, my current frustration dissipating. Of course I couldn't stay mad at him when he pulled shit like this, it was the reason I had fallen for him in the first place.

"Few more minutes…" he grumbled. I rolled my eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. He was always this way. I still remember all of the days of school he missed, just because he couldn't be bothered to leave the comfort of his blanket. I smirked, stalking slowly over, before I let out an exaggerated groan, and collapsed on top of him. I giggled to myself as I felt him jump, and heard him growl angrily.

"Come on, it's time to wake up… you need to take your AZT and eat… I need you ready by the time I get home.. you didnt forget about our date tonight, did you?" Of course he did, but that didn't really phase me. Roger was kind of scatterbrained sometimes. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and leaned down, kissing his cheek.

"Course not…" he lied, rubbing his eyes drowsily, and flashing his famous smirk my way. I nuzzled against him affectionately. A squeak escaped me as he sat up out of nowhere, and tugged me into his grasp. Suddenly, I was the one pinned.

"Rog, no, I have to get read-" I was cut off as his warm lips pressed roughly against my own, sending shivers down my spine. I let out a noise halfway between a grunt, and a moan as he kissed deeper. Once he broke away, I was panting, and dizzy.

"You we're saying?" he asked, giving me an innocent look that was trying to hide his sarcastic smile. I snorted, shoving him off, and attempting to walk away. I felt his strong arms wrap around my waist, and tug me back down. I was about to protest when I felt his hands traveling up and down my ribs, and I screeched with laughter.

"R-o-G!" I gasped, feeling tears well up in my eyes as my noises echoed through the loft. I tried to hold his wrists back, but it was useless. "S-top! I ca-nt breathe!" I yelled, my face red from all my giggling. Finally he stopped, laying on me, and holding tight. Appreciating the air in my lungs once more, I let out a long breath, and kissed his head, my glasses askew.

"Nervous?" he asked, getting up, and giving my hand a squeeze. I nodded, leaning against him. "Don't be…" he traced my jawline. "You'll do just fine… and when you land this job, we'll celebrate tonight.." he leaned forward, kissing me once more.

"I sure hope so…" I blinked, glancing over at the alarm clock above the bed. It read 7:42. Realization hit me like a train, and I jumped, screaming. "FUCK!" Roger was startled, and shot me a questioning look as I tore into the living room, gathering my camera, scarf, and jacket.

"Mark? why-"

I cut him off. "My interview is at eight, and this place is across town!" I grabbed my bike from the wall, and moved towards the door, sliding it open.

"Good luck! I love-" was all I could hear from Roger as the metallic bang cut off our communication. I felt bad, not being able to return the expression, but he would be waiting for me when I got home. Roger loved to do two things when he was bored: Play guitar, and annoy me. With option two out the window, he'd be playing musetta's waltz for awhile.

I managed, somehow, to speed across town in less than ten minutes, and out of breath, I stood in front of the massive building. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I chained up my bike, and took a deep breath, opening the doors, and walking inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Roger pov:**

I grumbled impatiently as my boyfriend bounded out the door, without so much as a goodbye. He's late, and this job means a lot to him, I reminded myself. At least when he gets home, we can go out for our date.

I decided to get out of bed, and make breakfast. Putting some water to boil on the hot plate, and getting coffee ready, I took my place at the metal table, popping two AZT pills into my mouth.

By the time I ate, and showered, it was around nine. Mark should be out of his interview soon. My thoughts were confirmed when I heard the phone ringing. Our famous line of: "SPEEEAK" filled the quiet loft.

"Rog? It's Mark, babe, please pick up!" he sounded panicked, so I got up quickly, running over, and stealing it off the cradle.

"Mark? whats wrong?" I asked, worry obvious in my tone. I heard him giggle on the other side of the phone, and I sighed with relief. Fucking jerk.

"What's wrong? Roger, I got the job!" he yelled, and even if he was across town, I could feel the happiness radiating off him. A grin spread across my face.

"Sweetie, that's great! congratulations!" I replied, and he laughed once more.

"I know! Things are going so well… I start on Monday, i'm so excited!"

"I'm so happy for you! see? I told you so." I could tell he was rolling his eyes.

"I'm gonna be on my way home now, get yourself together, we're going out to celebrate.."

I groaned. "Cant we stay in? with some stoli? please? I want you all to myself.." I said, inching in a little growl. He squeaked a little.

"O-okay… if you want. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.. I love you.." he responded.

"I love you more… see you soon…" I said, and we both hung up. I yawned, moving over to the window sill, and sitting down, watching with a smile as it began to snow. I couldn't wait for him to get home.


	3. Chapter 3

Mark pov:

I felt like screaming. I finally managed to land a job, and judging by the happiness I heard in Roger's tone when I broke the news, things were going to be just fine. Despite the snow beginning to fall, warmth spread throughout my body. Smiling with anticipation for our date, I began on my way back to the loft.

I wasn't sure when I began to feel off. All I know is, when I turned a wrong corner, a bout of anxiety managed to creep it's way into my mind. I had been biking through this city for years, so getting lost was something I hadn't experienced in a long time.

I pulled to a stop when I cut down an unfamiliar alley, and found a dead end. Running my hand through my hair, I let out a sigh. It was getting cold. A figure caught my eye. Was that..?

The man stood with his heavy leather coat, selling to a desperate sixteen year old, who was all over him, begging for more. I felt bile rise up in my throat. I remember when Roger used to be like her, disappearing from the loft at all hours of the night, coming back high, distant, and inhuman.

As I gazed closer, a voice behind me caused me to jump.

"Mark? is that you?" I spun around, a face I recognized gazing back at me. A crooked smile confirmed it.

"Jason?" I asked, relieved that I wasnt alone in a strange part of town anymore. Jason was an old boyfriend of mine. I had broken things off, our relationship was toxic, and we hadn't seen each other for almost ten years. He didn't seem mad now, though. Just happiness, and relief spread across his face.

"You son of a bitch, look at you!" he yelled, running forward, and stealing a tight hug, spinning me a little. I laughed, returning it, missing how well I used to fit into his arms.

"God, it's been so long!" I exclaimed, stepping back, and looking over him. "How have you been?" I asked, gazing up at his familiar brown eyes.

"Eh, i've been surviving, y'know how it is…" I nodded, and he ran a hand through his jet black hair. "How about you?" he asked quietly.

"Doing well for myself, actually… I'm just a little lost at the moment.." I admitted. He laughed for a minute, and shook his head.

"Oh, Marky.. never good with directions, huh?" I winced a little at the nickname. Only Roger was allowed to call me that these days.

"Not really.. could you help me?" I asked. He nodded.

"Sure! why dont we get a drink at the life? catch up? I know my way back."

I looked down. "I dunno, Jason.. I promised Roger id be home by now…"

"Oh man, Roger! I remember him! how is he?" Jason asked. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

"Well.. he's… he's fine… he and I… have… been together for almost three years now…" I offered a nervous smile. To my surprise, I found Jason smiling too.

"Aw man, congrats! you guys always seemed like a nice pair.. and hey, just give him a call when we get there, let him know you'll be home late, yeah?"

Worry seemed to be the last thing on my mind. Maybe Jason has changed. He seemed nothing like the man I had left, so many years ago.

"Yeah… i'll do that… okay, sure. Let's catch up." I said, and Jason grinned. We walked off together. Soon we were a few blocks from the life.

He held open the door for me, and we slipped inside. Picking a table by the window, we sat down, and he ordered some drinks for us. My eyes went comically wide as a shot of hard whiskey stared back at me.

"Oh, Jason, no… I can't handle this stuff…" He laughed a little, pushing it towards me.

"Come on, Mark! just try some with me? it's very nice, believe me." I was skeptical.

"Once I call Roger, i'll try some… i'll be right back." I said with a smile, getting up, and turning my back to the table.

When I stepped outside to use the payphone, I found a drunk man Screaming into the receiver. I sighed. Id have to call Roger later. I backed away, shaking my head, and slipping back inside.

"Back so soon?" Jason asked with a smirk. I giggled.

"There's some guy screaming at the phone out there… i'll call Roger later…"

Jason raised his glass, and gazed at me.

"A toast. To us, and where we've ended up." I smiled.

"And to where we go from here.." I added, and we touched drinks. Jason began to sip his, and I looked down at mine. With an encouraging glance from Jason, I drank a little.

I coughed as the first thing I felt was it burning the back of my throat. Was whiskey always this bad? Jason began giggling, and I flipped him off, a smile coming across my own face.

The rest of the night seemed like a blur to me. About twenty minutes after finishing my drink, I began to feel… strange. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, and my movements were sluggish.

"J-ason?" I asked, watching the blurry figure across from me at the table.

"Aww, you really can't handle your liquor…" he reached out, tipping my chin up.

"Don't… f-eel right…" I whispered, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

"Lets get you home, then… Roger must be worried sick.." I nodded gratefully as he helped me up from the table.

"R-og…" I croaked, blinking slowly. Once we were out in the cold, His strong arms wrapped around me, and I felt myself being dragged. He cut down an alley, and the next thing I knew, I was thrown over his shoulder.

"Ive been waiting eight and a half years for this…" I heard him snarl, his voice becoming dark. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

"Wh-at… what a-re you -doing?" I whined, beginning to squirm. My body seemed to be giving up on me, for I was soon too weak to even move my arms or legs. My eyes went wide as my scarf fell from my shoulders, landing in a heap in the alley. I reached for it, but with no luck, I whimpered pathetically as I was separated from it.

"Taking back what's rightfully mine." As he walked on, all I remember was watching the fading sight of the life, and thinking: **Roger, i'm sorry...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note:**

**hey guys! I apologize if ive been slacking with the updates, and to make it up to you, im posting this bonus chapter.**

**I dont mean to fall behind, I just get caught up in other things, or get lazy, yknow?**

**I know how it feels to love a really good fic, and be wanting to STRANGLE the author for leaving it unattended for weeks. Im gonna have a stricter schedule with these from now on, and have an update every week. Promise. Im gonna pre-doc manage more of the fic, and start working on new chapters while you guys burn through the ones that are already finished.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Roger pov:

Two hours. It's been two hours since Mark last called me.

He said he'd be home in fifteen minutes, but now I was beginning to panic. It wasn't like him to just forget to come home, and even if he was gonna get lost filming hobos, he would have at least taken the time to call first.

I watched out the window, waiting, and waiting, and waiting to see that blond, scarf wearing dork come speeding around the corner. Boy, he was gonna be in for it when he got home.

When he didn't come home another hour after that, I decided to call Maureen and Joanne. Maybe the snow was too much, and he had to stop somewhere? I quickly dialed their number.

"Hello?" I heard Joanne's professional voice answer. I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"Hey Jo, it's Roger…" I heard the tension leave, and instead it was replaced with warmth.

"Hi Rog, what's up?" she asked. I watched out the window. The snow was only starting to pick up.

"I was wondering.. did Mark stop by at all? he was supposed to be home from his interview hours ago, and he hasn't called…"

I heard the confusion in her voice. "No… I haven't seen him since last week when you two came over… I'm sorry Roger… have you tried Collins?"

I looked down. "He's still out of town… I can't get to Meems either, her and Benny are away on one of his stupid business trips… they won't be back until tomorrow morning..."

Maureen chimed in from behind Joanne. "Where's Marky?" she asked, obviously eavesdropping.

"Look, just call me if you hear anything… I'm gonna go out… he might have just gotten side tracked at the park or something.. y'know how out of it he can get sometimes…" With a "Good luck." from Joanne, and a "Find pookie!" from Maureen, I hung up.

"Mark, I swear.. if you ever try to lecture me about coming home late again…" I grumbled, slipping on my jacket, and heading out into the unforgiving frost.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark pov:

Dark. Everything is dark, and cold, and I swear i'm dead until I feel the blindfold being ripped off my face, and i'm met with the sight of a blurry, dim room.

"Aww, honey, you can't see!" Jason's voice cuts in, and I wince as the rectangular frames are thrust onto my face rather unceremoniously. Things began to come into focus. My head was spinning.

"It's about time you came to…" he said with a chuckle, and I looked around. I was in some sort of… basement? the air was musty, damp, and barely any light crept through the boarded windows. A staircase led up in the corner, and I turned my attention to myself, making gripping motions with my hands, and my eyes going wide as I realized I was fighting against restraints. I was sitting up, tied down to a hard, wooden chair. Rope kept my wrists down, and my ankles, and some even bound my chest.

"Where am I?" I asked, craning my neck to try and get a better look man in question walked over, smirking at me.

"Your new home, for the next seven years…" I choked on air, and he waited for me to speak.

"What?" I asked, disbelief dripping from my tone. He nodded, walking around me slowly.

"That's the plan, Marky... I keep you here long enough for the cops, and your boyfriend, to give up, and I finally get you all to myself..."

I choked on air. Jason watched me with that crooked grin until I was finally able to speak again.

"Jason… what… how… why!?" I watched him, expecting an explanation now.

He hopped up on a metal table in the center of the room, and smirked. He cleared his throat, and began.

"Oh, Mark… you have no idea how long i've been waiting…." He began playing with his hands. "Ever since you dumped me, and left brown… i've been watching… ever since you picked up… that nobody… i've been watching…. I've been such a patient guy! but it's okay…. I finally have you… you actually think us running into each other was a coincidence?"

My eyes were watering. This couldn't be happening. This could Not be real. Ive been taken away from my friends, my home, everything I love, and I was gonna be here for… seven years? a lot can happen in that time. People forget you when you're gone that long. Roger… what if Roger wasn't around in seven years? what if I never get to see him again?

I struggled for words. "R-oger isn't a nobody! and… and you can't just kidnap me like this! Roger, my friends.. they'll come looking for me! they'll bust me out of here, and you'll never get away with this!"

Jason began to laugh. A laugh so loud, I winced, and closed my eyes until it finally came to a stop.

"Oh, Mark…" he mused, crossing his arms. "That's the fun part… I already have… answer me this… do your friends know who I am? does Roger have any idea where you are?"

I looked down, trying to think up a clever response, but I was instead met with Jason's speech once more.

"No, they don't." Jason finished for me. He crouched in front of me, tracing my jawline. "They don't care, Mark… they won't ever care as much as I do…. when you left brown, I thought id lost you forever…." I whined as he ran his fingers through my hair. He smiled. "But I didn't lose you… I kept searching, and searching, and watching, because I love you… I love you way more than that… that ex junkie asshole ever will…"

I glared at his defiantly, and snapped.

"Shut your mouth! I left you because you were a selfish, obsessive prick! all you ever cared about was using me for sex, or someone to listen to your problems! anytime I needed you, you were nowhere to be found!" I watched the hurt flash through his eyes, and I continued. "Roger loves me Jason… not the fake love you're trying to talk about… he treats me like i'm the only guy in the fucking world, and that's something you're never going to convince me otherwise…"

He bristled with anger, and in a flash, he sent a stinging smack to my cheek. I yelped, bowing my head.

"I dont like when you yell at me, Marky…." he clenched his fists. "I try and be nice… I give you your glasses… I let you talk.. and that's how you show gratitude, huh? we're gonna have to start laying down some ground rules…"

I swallowed nervously. "Gr-ground… rules?"

He smiled, nodding. "Yeah… you need to learn from your mistakes…"

I snorted. "What are you gonna do? ground me?"

"Exactly! I made you your very own room…"

I raised an eyebrow. This guy was fucking insane.

"If there's one thing I remember about you well… it's how much you hate the dark…" my heart dropped. He wouldn't…

"You… you're kidding, right?" he shook his head, grabbing the back of the chair, and dragging me along.

"You're gonna spend a while in here.. until you realize what you did…" I began to shake as he set the chair down in the center of the room that had no windows, or lights.

"Jason, NO!" I screamed as the door finally slammed shut. I trembled as everything was pitch black. I began fighting against my restraints, and before I knew it, sobs were being torn from my throat. I felt blind. I wanted to claw at my eyes. Panic was rising in me, and I began hyperventilating. Nothing got to me more than darkness.

I don't know how long I was in there, or how many times I forgot how to breathe, but I do remember screaming. I screamed at Jason. I screamed for Roger. I screamed for anything, or anyone to save me from this nightmare. As my lungs refused to let me scream anymore, I began to lose hope. How Would I get out of this?


	6. Chapter 6

Roger pov:

I had been looking for almost two hours. All over the city, and no sign of Mark. I walked through the park, down every alley I could find, with no luck. Shivering, and going out of my mind, I even went as far as to try the building he landed the job at.

Walking inside, everyone turned to look my way like I was some kind of lunatic. A snarl I didn't realize I was making caused them all to return to work. A woman's gentle voice snapped me from my daze.

"Sir?" she asked politely, smiling. I blinked a little, then shook my head, and cleared my throat.

"Oh, yeah… hi…" she tilted her head, confused.

"Can I help you with anything?" she offered.

I nodded. "I… um… Was Mark Cohen here this morning?"

She looked down at her desk for a moment.

"Blonde? glasses? a scarf?" she attempted to recall. A smile lit up my face.

"Yes! yes, exactly! that's him!"

"Then yes. He was here earlier for the interview. I believe Mister Cohen got the job, he walked out pretty happy.."

"Do you know where he went after that?" I pressed, becoming more panicked for leads.

She paused, beginning to think. "I'm not sure… he got on his bike outside, and he turned left.. that's all I saw of him.."

I sighed. At least I knew which general direction he was going. "Thanks…" I concluded, and turned away.

"Have a nice day!" she called after me, and I raised my hand in acknowledgement, turning left from the building, and continuing aimlessly on the avenue.

As the snow got worse, and worse, I kept walking, my feet feeling numb. Night had quickly fallen. A car horn behind me caused me to jump.

"Roger!" a familiar voice called, and I spun around to find Collins pulled up beside the sidewalk.

"God, Thomas, am I glad to see you…" I ran over. leaning into his window.

"What are you doing out here, man? it's barely twenty degrees! Mark's gonna skin you!"

I looked down, and shook my head.

"That's just it, dude… he went out for his interview this morning, got the job, called me, said he was coming home… that was over five hours ago… I don't know where he could be.. ive been looking for a while, havent found a thing…"

I felt his worried eyes burning into me. I wanted nothing more than to disappear, or at least, find Mark.

"Did you call everyone?" he asked.

"Yeah… youre the last one I haven't gotten a hold of… Collins, i'm worried… it isn't like him to just not come home.. and even if he did, he would have called… he wasn't mad on the phone, he didn't have any luggage… god, this is all my fault.. I should have gone out looking sooner…"

Collins tipped my chin up slowly.

"Hey, come on man… don't beat yourself up for this… it isn't your fault… we need to focus on finding him, yeah?"

I nodded slowly. He motioned for me, and I climbed into his car. We started out slow cruise around the city, watching, hoping for any sign of our blond.

Collin's voice brought me back to reality.

"Rog… we've been out driving for hours… i'm really starting to worry, here." I looked down at my watch. Damn… I thought silently. Three hours, and nothing.

"Maybe we can try the police?" I asked hopefully. Collins shook his head.

"It's too early. It's only been what, a day? besides, they'd much rather investigate the disappearance of a bread crumb…" it sounded harsh, but Collins had a point. When Mimi had gone missing, we had to make fliers ourselves. The cops did shit.

"Okay, then… we could make fliers, or keep driving around, we have to do something…" I whined. Collins nodded.

"Listen, im not one to suggest packing it in for tonight, but my gas tank is almost empty, and we need to rest if we're gonna get anything done. I'll stay with you tonight, and we can put up the fliers tomorrow, okay?"

I looked away, hesitant. I needed to take my AZT. The reminder almost made me cry.

"I guess…" I murmured. Collins quickly took us home, and we walked up the loft steps together.

Getting ready for bed was agonizing. His stuff was everywhere. His tea cup was still on our nightstand. His hair gel was left open on the sink. While I was staring at his comb, tears in my eyes, Collin's hand on my shoulder made me jump.

"Rog, we're gonna find him… I can promise you that…" I choked out a bitter laugh.

"You dont know that. He could be dead already, or frozen, or he could have left on his own…." I dropped my gaze to the floor. "That's the worst part, Thomas…. not knowing. I havent got a clue except that last time he called… I can't stand waiting… I just.. I just want him back…"

The taller man pulled me into a hug. I began sobbing into the crook of his neck. I don't remember much after that. I was lain down on Mark's- OUR bed, and left to sleep.

It wasn't like I could rest at all, anyway. He was the only thing that kept me sane enough to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Mark Pov:

"Marky…. oh, Marky…." I felt something gently prod my arm, and for half a second, it seemed as though I was back in the loft, safe and sound with Roger. Maybe it was all just a dream? I seemed to bask in the lie for a minute, and smile spread across my face.

"Mmm… R-og?" I asked slowly. A hand caressed the side of my face, just like he usually did, and tears welled up in my eyes. I slowly blinked them open, but before I had time to see anything, I was slowly lifted off the ground, and my face was buried in someone's shoulder. I nuzzled closer, Inhaling his familiar scent-

I stopped short. This wasn't Roger. I wasn't home. This wasn't a dream. My eyes shot open, and I pulled away to see Jason's lopsided smirk staring back at me. With a scream, I began to thrash and writhe in an attempt to get out of his arms.

I had made a terrible mistake. One thing I forgot about Jason was his short temper. Before I had time to even speak, I was slammed onto the hard concrete floor with a sickening crack. My world went dark for a second. Then came the agony, and the next hit.

I wasn't sure how many more times he landed sledge hammer kicks to my sides, but shortly after I had puked, he bent down, close to my ear.

"Marky, Marky…." He murmured, stroking my hair. "You should know better than to squirm… we were having such a nice time!"

"No-t… you… w-ant… Rog…" I managed to spit out, before coughing up the rest of my bile. He hauled me to my feet once more, and brought me over to the chair. Tying me back down, and forcing a bright light in my face, I squinted as he started looking me over.

"Oh, honey! You got sick!" I let out a whine as he rested his hand on my forehead. It was too cold, and too rough, and I just wanted Roger, and my scarf, and to never ever think about this creep again.

"D-ont… to-uch m-e…" I groaned, trying to swat his hand away weakly. A stinging slap greeted my resistance, and I couldn't find it in me to verbalize the pain. Instead, I lowered my head, panting heavily, begging whatever force watching over me that my cheek wouldn't be burning for much longer. Jason's hot, alcohol laced breath hissed in my ear.

"Mark…." My chin was tipped up, and I began to cry despite myself. I guess he got some kind of satisfaction from that, a grin spreading across his features. "Listen to me…" I learned my lesson, instead of resisting, I met his gaze. "I tried sending you to your room… that was me being nice… every time you resist, you're gonna get hit.. that's how things work around here… You're Mine now. You belong to me, and you're gonna learn your place…."

When I had first come to the city, I remember Roger lecturing me for twenty minutes each time I was ready to go out and film.

"Don't be a fucking jackass. This isn't the movies. If you're gonna get mugged, give up whatever the fucker wants. Your life is worth a lot more than four bucks and crappy camera. Nobody likes a hero."

To which I had nodded, and gasped nervously. He obviously knew how much of an easy target I was. Nobody ever abducts a rock star who look like they belong in prison. That was my first impression of him, anyway. He should have taken his own advice, I recalled a time where some goon tried to swipe his guitar when we were walking home from the life, a few weeks before April's death, and I watched him beat the living piss out of this guy, tooth and nail. He got a few bruises himself, but I'll never forget his response once the poor sap was out cold on the concrete.

All I said was "Why did you fight back?" after we had seen a seven inch switchblade slip out from the robber's pocket when he went down. Rog could have easily been killed, but the villain never got the chance.

He met my gaze, stood tall, flashed me that smirk of his, and said: "Mark, that guitar means so much to me. It got me my first gig out here, it reminds me every day why I keep trying to make it big, and it's a part of who I am." He then picked it up, slung it over his shoulder, and tossed a few more words back in my direction. "Who you are…. THAT'S something you fight back for. That's why I risked my neck, and I dont regret it."

And with Jason inches from my face, feeding me lies, I felt something in me ignite. I belonged to Roger, and Roger only. Roger was my sunshine, my reason for waking up. Roger was mine, just as much as I was his. Roger was who I am…. and I would be damned if I let Jason take that away from me. I would be brave, just like my boyfriend. I let out a snarl, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Jason must have thought I was pretty weak from the beating, because he made the knots too loose. I spit blood in his face, and he yelped as it stung his eye. He stumbled back, and I took this opportunity, standing up, and spinning around, slamming the chair against him. He went down, and I got the knots out with my teeth, dropping the chair behind me, and standing over him angrily.

"You're gonna get it…." he muttered, wiping his eyes. I felt rage blazing through me, and I landed a kick to his head. A yelp escaped him, but he managed to get to his feet.

"Lets get something straight right now…" I growled dangerously, clenching my fists. "I don't belong to you. You have no right to claim me as yours. I'm leaving here, calling the cops, and going home, and don't think i'll ever remember you. Roger is who I am, and you'll Never take that from me!" I lunged forward, landing a solid crack to his jaw. His head snapped back, and he stumbled, but instead of hitting me, he rubbed the bruise, and locked eyes with me.

"Oh, Mark…. you make me laugh…." I went to punch him again, but he caught my fist in his massive paw, and twisted it behind my back. I let out a yelp as he brought me to my knees.

"Wha-what's so funny!?" I snapped, struggling. He grinned.

"You're so bent on getting back to Roger, as if he actually loves, or cares about you…"

"Don't pull this shit Jason, i'm not gonna listen."

"Why do you care so much!?" he yelled. "He's a nobody! he's a washed up musician! a drug addict! he's got HIV for Christ sake! I bet he'll be dead two or three years from now, you never know…" that remark took the air from my lungs, and Jason dropped my arm. He began circling me.

"Don't… say that.." I managed, watching him with a glare.

"You honestly think he's gonna come rescue you? he's NOT. Nobody is coming for you… who'd ever WANT to come for you? Face it Mark, you're worthless. You and I both know that. Roger's gonna be able to die happily, not having to deal with you anymore…"

I looked down. I agreed about the worthless part. Maybe Roger would be better off without me, but I wasn't better off without him.

"Piss off, Jason."

"Aw… that's cute…"

"What the fuck are you talking about!?" I snapped, glaring at him.

"You actually think he's gonna come running in here, and bust down that door, right? You think he's gonna rescue you, like some knight in shining armor? well, answer me this, Mark. Does he have any clue who I am?"

I looked down. Roger had forgotten Jason years ago.

"Does he have any idea where you are?"

I didn't even know where I was.

His dark laugh echoed throughout the room.

"That's what I thought." I was about to speak again, but a solid whack to the back of my head, and I was out once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Roger pov:

A knock on my door awakened me from my daze. Light from the sun filtered onto my face, and I blinked lazily, trying (and failing) to rub the exhaustion from my eyes. I hadn't slept, for the absence of his presence was too unsettling. I sat up, having pitifully cuddled with one of his jackets the whole night. His scent was fading from it, anyway.

"Rog? you awake? I made some fliers earlier, ready to help me put em up?"

I looked down, then the realization hit me. I quickly sprung from the covers, and started throwing clothes on.

"Y-eah! i'm coming!" I called back, digging through my drawers for a sweater. I found Mark's old hoodie that he acquired from his short time at brown, and I chuckled half heartedly. I hugged it close to my chest before slipping it on. When I emerged, Collins glanced at it, and I saw understanding flash through his eyes. He handed me a stack of papers, and we were off.

"Where do we even start?" I asked, a sigh escaping me. Collins watched me warily before responding.

"Anywhere we can, I was thinking maybe the place Mark applied first? people saw him there more recently."

I nodded. "Then the life, people will recognize him easier there."

Collins brought us to his car. Once we got gas, we spent the day handing out fliers at Mark's building. We eventually got back to our neighborhood, plastering fliers everywhere, handing them out, asking cops, junkies, and anyone else who was close enough.

It vaguely occurred to me that there was one more person who was usually out all hours of the night, who could have spotted Mark two nights ago, when he went missing.

Collins must have realized what I was thinking, for he whispered a "Be careful" before I stood at the mouth of the alley where he usually dealt. A young boy was reaching desperately for smack that the man held over his head. A sick grin on his face, and stopped the taunting when he finally looked up and saw me.

He threw the bag with a laugh, and the teen chased after it. I felt nauseous. He turned to me, with a smile.

"Lover boy! long time no see!"

I kept a dangerous look on my face.

"It's Roger, and you know that. I have to ask you a few questions."

He watched me with curiosity, and slapped his pockets.

"I'm not here for smack. My boyfriend is missing. About five foot eight, blond, skinny, glasses, scarf. You've seen me with Mark, I know you have. Has he been around here?"

He glanced away, uninterested.

"I dunno."

I felt my temper flare.

"What do you mean, you don't know!? answer my question!"

He smirked, knowing he had leverage on me now.

"Maybe I saw your little queer, maybe I didn't. Its none of your business otherwise."

I clenched my fists, and moved towards him. I stopped short when he pulled out a switch blade.

"Ah, ah, ah…. lets not be hasty…" he cooed. I felt anxiety welling up in my chest. This was the only lead we had to go from.

"What do you want?" I snarled, burning into him with disdain in my stare.

He pondered for a moment.

"What do you got?"

I looked down, becoming desperate. I dug through my pockets, and glanced back up.

"Look… I have forty bucks on me from my paycheck at the bar…" I stepped forward, stuffing the bills into his outstretched hand. "Please…" I whined. "Give me something…" Fortunately, he seemed to take pity on me.

He sighed, and locked his eyes with mine.

"Yeah, I saw him…"

I felt hope explode in my chest.

"Really!? where!?" He raised a hand to silence me, and I nodded.

"Your friend, he was lost… He pulled up into my alley looking all kinds of confused… He kept gawking at me when I was making a sale, and I had half the mind to go over there and-" he stopped when I growled. "Anyway, he was sitting there, then some big guy with black hair comes over, recognizes him? and he hugs him. I didn't hear much after that, I walked away, but i'm assuming he wanted to help him find his way."

Collins let out a confused sigh behind me. I turned around.

"Black hair? who do we know with black hair?" I asked. He shrugged, continuing to think. I turned back to the man.

"Did you happen to catch a name?" I begged. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Ahh… shit….. I think… Jared? no, no… Jason? Yeah! Jason…. that's all you're getting from me…" he walked away quickly, disappearing behind a corner. I stood there with Collins, dumbfounded.

"Whoever this Jason guy was, he's the last person who was with Mark…" Collins began.

"But if he was trying to get Mark home, where the fuck are they now?" I asked.

"Unless, he wasn't trying to get Mark back to you…" He responded.

I felt adrenaline ignite inside me.

"We have to check around the life again… the name Jason sounds so familiar, I know for a fact it does…" I broke into a panicked sprint.

"R-Roger! WAIT!" yelled Collins, trying to keep up with me. He left the car behind, trying to match my pace. The life was only a few blocks away.

I burst through the doors, nearly vaulting over a table, and coming to a stop at the bar, out of breath. I couldn't believe we didn't think to come here first.

Rosie, our usual bartender watched me with worry.

"Rog? you okay?" I shook my head, and gasped out.

"Mark… here.. two nights ago… you see him?"

She reached out, and helped me to sit down and catch my breath. Once I was coherent enough, she spoke.

"I wasn't working then, sweetie. Martin was, though. It was his first night, but i'm pretty sure he'd be able to recognize him. Did you ask Manny, yet? he was waiting tables."

"I wanna talk to both of them." I concluded. Rosie nodded in understanding, walking away. Pretty soon, the flamboyant waiter, and a tall, lean bartender were by my side.

"Roggy, what's the problem?" Manny asked, an arm around my shoulders. The new guy, Martin, just looked scared.

"Manny… It's Mark… He was here two nights ago, yeah?" I glanced at Martin. "Kind of short, skinny, blond hair, blue eyes, glasses, a scarf, very quiet?"

Martin looked down, then nodded.

"Yeah… he was with some big guy.. with black hair… They came in together, alls they ordered were two whiskeys…"

I was confused. Mark hated whiskey… unless he was drinking it to be polite.

Manny piped up. "Ah, yeah! I saw them leaving." He pointed across the building. "I was over there, taking an order, and I saw Mark… he was looking sick, or out of it, or something… I tried to wave goodbye, but it was like he couldn't even see me…"

I slammed my hand down on the bar, and Martin jumped. "Mother fucker!" I screamed. Everyone looked up. "Don't you see? he must've taken Mark!"

Collins burst into the life, making his way over to me.

"God damn, Davis… you run quick… what'd I miss?"

Manny rubbed my back, and turned to Collins.

"We think this Jason, whoever he is, took Mark."

Collins sat beside me, and spoke.

"Y'know rog, I remember that name… and I think I realize why.. A long time ago, When he first came to the city, when he and I met, he told me something about an ex boyfriend with that last name, that he left behind."

"It couldn't be the same guy, could it? How would he have even found Mark?" I asked.

"I dunno man, but it's all we got. It's been long enough, and we have evidence. The cops won't do much, but we still have to get it out there. You and I are going to the precinct."

I nodded. Collins was right. He pulled a stack of fliers from his jacket, and handed them to Manny.

"Wanna spread these around for us?"

Manny nodded, and kissed my head.

"Good lucky, honey. Call us if you need anything, and we'll call you if we get any tips." I murmured gratefully, and Collins and I stood up, making our way out of the cafe.

I steered towards the alley that was beside the life, a smile on my face. Collins followed knowingly.

"This is the place, huh?" he asked.

I nodded, looking around. "Where Mark and I first got together? yep…"

"Ill put up some fliers." he answered, taping one up to the brick wall.

I glanced around at the ground, and a piece of odd fabric caught my eye. I slowly made my way over to it. Picking it up, and turning it over in my hands, my heart sank.

"Collins!" Yelled, and the anarchist came jogging over. He crouched beside me.

"His scarf…" the taller man breathed, and I nodded. I wrapped it around my neck gently. "He wouldn't go anywhere without it, Collins…. this is bad… this is really bad…" I whined, burying my face in my hands. "Mark… MY Mark… is in the hands of some.. fucking lunatic…"

I dropped to my knees. Collins pulled me into a tight hug. I finally stopped trying to be tough. Mark was gone, I had no idea where, or what condition he was in. I cried into his shoulder.

"I just want him back… I swear to fucking god, I'm gonna kick the shit out of that bastard… Collins, where is h-he…. Why did it have to be h-im… I could take it, H-e can't…"

He rubbed circles into my back. To this day, I still don't know what I would have done without Collins there. This was the second time I was breaking down, and sure enough, he was there for me both times.

"It's cold out here… lets get to the precinct… the car is parked a block from here…" he said, helping me to my feet. I leaned against him as we walked on.

"Collins?"

He looked at me. "Hm?"

"Thank you…"

He pulled me closer, keeping pace with my sluggish footsteps.

"I miss him too, Man."

I nodded in understanding. It was gonna be a long night.


	9. Chapter 9

Mark Pov:

After a bought of nightmares, Jason finally got sick of my screaming, and slapped me awake.

"Good morning, handsome…" he traced my jaw, and I groaned angrily.

"What now, Jason?" I asked, sitting up after he tied my arms again.

"Marky, don't get snappy. I'm gonna be nice today. I suppose I should feed you."

Food. That was new. I had been used to going days without eating, so hunger didn't really occur to me until Jason mentioned it. My stomach betrayed me, growling in protest.

Jason picked me up over his shoulder, and I muttered at him until he put me down in my chair. Tying me down, extra tight this time, he pushed a little table in front of me. He pulled up a chair for himself.

"You sit tight. I'll go get us something." He leaned down, kissing my cheek, and I snorted, trying to bite his face. He pulled away just in time though. "Awww, Mark! don't push your luck, or someone's gonna get a muzzle!" he pinched my face before bounding up the stairs, and slamming the door. I looked around, wondering where the fuck I was.

I started thinking about Roger. I wanted nothing more to be back in his arms, or stroke his hair, or kiss him. He must be going crazy. I felt so guilty. If I could, id get out of my ropes, get a bat, and lay into Jason. I wasn't afraid anymore. I was downright pissed.

I remembered the days when I thought I was so in love with him. He had always been unstable. The doctors would always watch me warily when I picked up his medication, looking for bruises I guess. Jason had half the mentality of a child. He was damaged. I thought I could fix him. I tried, anyway. He had two sides. The sweet, gentle side I fell in love with, and the angry, hateful, snarling side that had beaten, and insulted me the other day.

He was like me in high school. Invisible. He had parents who cared about all the wrong things. They dismissed him when he was hurting, calling him "dramatic", dictating that everyone had it worse than him, and refusing him medication, or help. The school counselors, when I had gone with him, holding his hand, said it was highly recommended he go for therapy. He was diagnosed with depression, and bipolar disorder when were finally old enough to go without parental consent.

This gave the kids at school an even bigger reason to harass him. They picked on the both of us. We were "the pair of queens". Jason only got worse. He started skipping his meds, and becoming even more reckless. It was becoming obvious he didn't want me around anymore. He started ignoring me, avoiding me, and pretty soon, he started lashing out at me. I kept trying to help, but it was obvious things were getting worse for us both.

We had gone to college together at Brown, of course. A few days before I dropped out, I broke things off. I went to New York, and I never looked back. I guess it finally caught up to me.

Maybe I should attempt to play along with Jason's antics. Earning his trust might even result in him not tying me up anymore. When we used to date, paying attention to him always calmed him down. I wondered how I could ever forget.

He soon came back downstairs, carrying two plates. It smelled… nice. He took his seat next to mine, and smiled, setting a plate down in front of me.

"Steak?" I asked. Steak, mashed potatoes, and carrots. My favorite meal. I hadn't had it since high school. Jason nodded eagerly.

"Your favorite. See, I remember!" I offered a wary smile. He brightened up as he saw me happy. Maybe this plan would work after all. I began to get nervous, though.

"You didn't.. do anything to it, did you?" he started giggling.

"No, silly! want some?"

I sighed. "S-sure…"

He cut off a piece of the steak, and brought it to my mouth. I took a bite, chewing a little. It tasted fine. I nodded at him.

"This is very good, Jason." He grinned at my comment, and stroked my hair.

"I'm very glad you think so. See? was it so hard to be respectful?"

It took everything I had not to spit in his face again. I forced a grin as he continued to feed me. He let me drink water, and we even managed to hold a normal conversation. Once everything was said and done, Jason helped me up from my chair.

"You've been such a good boy tonight." he stated. I looked down in humiliation. I felt like a child. He steered me towards the dark room. I tensed up. "No, it's okay…" he murmured, stepping ahead, and turning the light on. It was actually a bedroom.

A decent sized bed, a nightstand beside it, and nothing else. It occurred to me I didn't realize they were there before because I was tied up in the center of the floor, last time.

"I… can sleep here?" I asked, and Jason nodded. He held up a key, and I gazed at it.

"I'm locking you in for safe keeping, just in case you get any ideas…" he untied me as an added blessing, and shoved me in.

"Don't I get a light? Please Jason, please… I hate the dark, I hate it…" he shook his head.

"Don't push your luck, Marky. Try not to have another panic attack and die."

As the door slammed, and darkness enveloped me, I started to get anxious. I felt my way around, and finally managed to lie down on the bed. I curled up, not bothering to touch the musty smelling blankets, and closing my eyes, like that made any sort of difference.

I breathed in through my nose, and out through my mouth, like Roger had always helped me to do when I was upset. For a second, I started to pretend he was with me. I kept trying to recall his scent, how his arms felt around me, and for awhile, it started helping. As long as I remembered why I was pretending to obey Jason, as long as I knew what I was fighting for, everything would hopefully be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

**Two weeks since Mark went missing:**

Roger pov:

Two weeks since the love of my life was taken from me, and so far the cops have managed to do a grand total of nothing. Collins and I told them what happened. They pulled up an address, but it was all the way back in scarsdale. They had no idea where Mark could be now, but they assured me they were doing everything they could.

Jason miller was his full name. I asked around, and apparently he hasn't been in this area at all. The only guy who had seen him was the man, and we already got all the info we could out of him. We were at a brick wall. After seeing his history from the police, which mentioned his mental disorders, I was pretty close to having a heart attack.

Mark was with a very unstable man, and judging by the fact that Jason had waited so long to finally come to New York, it made me nervous. He obviously had been planning this for quite some time. I spent the days since Mark's disappearance, wandering further and further outside the east village, screaming his name, trying to do something, anything to find him. I couldn't wait to get my hands on Jason.

On the other hand, I could be wrong entirely. I didn't SEE Jason take Mark, and who knows? maybe his story about trying to help Mark checks out. Maybe Mark was stolen from him by a different person. The over analyzation made my head hurt.

I hadn't been doing well myself, either. It got to the point where I was so worked up, I was physically sick with worry. I puked four times yesterday. Collins kept telling me to take it easy, but I wasn't having it. Not when Mark could be dead, or dying, or screaming for help, or in serious danger. "Don't lose hope" a woman at the police station had told me. For once in my life, maybe I would follow a cop's advice.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my stupor. It hit me too late. Maureen and Joanne were done putting up the fliers that Collins had given them earlier, and he had told me they were gonna come to see me. I hadn't talked to either of them since the night Mark went missing.

I stood up, rubbing my bloodshot eyes. "Come in! it's open!" I called, and the sliding of the metal door caused me to wince. I was already nursing a bad headache.

I barely had time to react before Maureen had bounded across the loft, and nearly tackled me in a hug. She stretched up on her toes, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck, and giving me a squeeze. I held her back, burying my face in her shoulder, and enjoyed the comforting contact. In that moment, I was grateful for my understanding, tactile friends.

"How are you doing, baby?" she asked me, kissing my cheek. I pulled back to look at her. I didn't realize I was crying, for her cupping the side of my face, and brushing a tear from my eye surprised me. Joanne came over to us as well.

"Scared…" I managed to explain. Joanne nodded, holding onto my other side. We broke apart, Maureen still keeping a tight grip on my arm, and leaning her head against my bicep.

"We put up as many fliers as we could… did the police have anything new to say?" asked Joanne, watching me with concern.

I shook my head.

"Roggy?" Maureen whispered. I looked down at her. "Pookie and I were thinking… do you want us to stay here with you, for the weekend? Mimi and Collins are gonna come by later, we could all stay with you…"

I sighed. Being alone seemed appealing, but on the other hand, these people were my family. Arent you supposed to have family by your side in times of trouble? or some sappy shit like that, anyway. It took me awhile, but I agreed. I needed that.

"We'll get set up." Joanne said, patting my shoulder. As the lawyer walked downstairs to get bags from their car, Maureen and I sat down on the couch. She saw I was getting upset again, so she grabbed me, and before I could protest, I was being rested down in her lap.

I didn't squirm. I closed my eyes as one of her arms wrapped around my torso, and the other was focused on stroking my hair. She must have known more than I gave her credit for. Having my hair pet calmed me down, no matter what. Maybe she was paying attention when Mark and I cuddled at parties, after all.

It occurred to me I fell asleep, because when I opened my eyes, night had fallen, and Mimi was in the loft with Collins. I yawned, and glanced up at Maureen, who had fallen asleep herself.

"Hi, Roger.." Mimi whispered shyly, having moved over to me. I looked at her, and offered a smile.

"Hey…" I sat up, and let her hug me for awhile. She soon pulled away.

"I'm so sorry…" she murmured. I shrugged.

"It's not your fault…" I whispered. All we could do at this point was wait, anyway.

The rest of the night was spent mostly relaxing. Collins brought some stoli, but I didn't want to touch any.

Everyone ended up on the couch with me. Maureen was clinging to my left side, Mimi to my right. Joanne was leaning against Collins at my feet. I blinked drowsily. How did I always end up in the center?

Somehow, I managed to untangle myself from the mess of bodies on the couch, and stumble to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face. Moving back to the kitchen, I started preparing some coffee on the hot plate absentmindedly. I winced as one of Mark's tea bags fell from the cabinet.

Before I had the time to whimper, the phone rang. I must have been on some kind of cocaine, for I practically FLEW across the damn loft to get to it. I yanked it off the receiver, hope swelling my chest Mark's okay, We found Mark, Mark's at the police station, Mark is looking for you, Mark is alive.

"Hello?" I asked, a smile on my face. Benny's voice killed most of my enthusiasm. I could tell he felt awkward, his tone lowered when he realized I was the one on the other end.

"Roger.." he murmured. I nodded, and waited for him to continue. "How is everything?"

I looked down. "Hey, Ben. It sucks. What's up?" he recognized the rush in my voice.

"Oh! um, right… I wanted to call to tell you, A friend of mine who lives up in Rhode island, apparently he knows where Jason used to live. He's gonna head to that part of town, ask a few students at Brown, and try his old address."

I nodded. That could lead us somewhere. "Thanks…" I murmured.

"It's the least I could do… I call you if I hear anything… get some rest…" I hung up the phone with another positive whisper.

Moving to the window sill, I looked out onto the frozen streets with a sigh. Wherever Mark was at this point, we were running out of time. I hoped he was alright.


End file.
